


Sugar, Salt, and Lemon

by SaltySweetLicorice



Series: Body Shots [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Body Shots, Chubby Kink, Chubby Stiles, College!AU, Derek's POV, M/M, Pining Derek, Truth or Dare
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-24
Updated: 2014-04-24
Packaged: 2018-01-20 14:17:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1513556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SaltySweetLicorice/pseuds/SaltySweetLicorice
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek’s been giving Stiles the cold shoulder ever since he first met him, his list of excuses running from rebound-issues to his fear of Stiles rejecting him for being especially attracted to his weight. A dare involving body shots might just be the push he needs to finally do something about it. Companion piece to “Body Shots and Whipped Cream” – Derek’s POV.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sugar, Salt, and Lemon

**Author's Note:**

> This is the companion piece to my story “Body Shots and Whipped Cream” – I guess it doesn’t matter which one you read first, but if I had to choose one, I’d probably recommend you go with Stiles’ POV first.

An hour after Derek arrives at Allison’s apartment he regrets his evening entertainment decision for two reasons. One reason is the game of truth or dare they are playing, making Derek wonder if he has accidentally stumbled back in time and landed in a room of his awkward high school teenage years. He knows that they are all at least five years younger than him – is painfully aware of it, in fact – but really, truth or dare? There is only one reason that Derek doesn’t turn back and walks out the door and that reason is coincidentally also the second reason he regrets his decision to come here: Stiles.

 

Derek had met Stiles a little over a year ago, after he had become friends with Boyd at the gym. Derek had been a bit broody during one of their sessions and Boyd, after discovering that Derek had just broken up with his girlfriend, Kate, had decided to drag him to a party of his fraternity. Derek had cringed at the idea of being surrounded by a group of barely legal – and possibly mostly illegal – drunk Undergraduates, but for all his quiet personality Boyd could be pretty persuasive if he wanted to be, and besides, Derek had promised to go out with him and his girlfriend Erica for ages now.

When he had gotten to the party, he had been pleasantly surprised to discover that none of Boyd’s friends were drunk and he had been about to relax and enjoy their company, but then Boyd had pointed out his girlfriend on the dance floor, and Derek’s mood had changed dramatically. Not because of Erica, but because of the man she had been dancing with. He was almost as tall as Derek, warm-eyed, mole-dotted face, and mussed-up hair. He had spun Erica in a circle, before spinning himself, bowing down deeply in front of her and kissing her hand with exalted affection, the two of them giggling hysterically. Boyd had beckoned them over and to Derek’s horror both of them had come. Derek had distractedly shaken Erica’s hand, his gaze stuck on the young man – Stiles – who had laughingly poked Boyd in the side and told him that his mad dancing skills had just about charmed his girlfriend into leaving Boyd.

Instead of listening to Erica making polite conversation about how much she had heard about Derek and how grateful she was that Boyd no longer dragged her out to the gym to keep him company there, Derek’s mind had been filled with images of dancing with Stiles. Only he didn’t want to be spun around by the man, he wanted to slow dance with him, wanted to sink into the man’s arms and mold their bodies together. Derek’s arms had been itching to wrap around the guy’s broad waist, which looked like he would be barely able to make his fingers touch behind his back, he had wanted to rest his cheek on the broad shoulders and sink into the warm, soft embrace.

The man was undeniably overweight, not quite fat, but well on his way if he wasn’t careful. Yet, to Derek he had looked strong, the smile on his rounded cheeks was genuine and he moved with an air of confidence that Derek had felt himself immediately drawn to. Stiles’ entire demeanor had signaled that he was comfortable with himself, that he liked himself despite what others would call imperfection, and Derek had felt almost envious. Stiles looked like a man who would be able to sweep Derek off his feet with ease and after his abusive relationship with Kate, it had felt like he needed exactly that.

The thought of Kate had stopped his arousal more effectively than a cold shower. Derek knew he was on the rebound and he definitely did not want to put the guy through his emotional baggage. Derek had wanted to kick himself when he had decided to handle the situation by giving Stiles the cold shower all evening, a message that had clearly been received if the confused, somewhat miffed expression on his gorgeous face was anything to go by.

It had not gotten better after that. Derek had started to think about Stiles all the time, his fantasies filled with sexual and domestic images. He would order Stiles’ favorite coffee at the coffee house the group frequented and imagine the man lick the cream off his lips with a contented sigh. He would lie in bed during the night and his thoughts would drift to what Stiles would feel like wantonly spread under him or how it would feel to be pinned down into the mattress by his bulk. He combined the fantasies, imagining himself licking cream off Stiles’ lips – and other places – while caressing every single inch of him. To him, it was borderline obsessive, and after his relationship with Kate he was absolutely done with obsessive behavior.

The fact that he was surrounded by people who would have mocked him for dating Stiles on a daily basis didn’t help much either; of course Derek knew that he should care less whether or not his friends approved of his choice in partners, but he remembered how much it had bothered one of his closest friends to constantly be called a ‘chubby chaser’ just because he always seemed to fall in love with women who had rather voluptuous butts. Not that Derek wouldn’t have owned up to the fact that a large part of his attraction to Stiles was the weight, or rather, the confidence with which he carried it, but he refused to be called a ‘chubby chaser’. Especially not after he had heard Stiles talk about it with Scott a while ago, lamenting over the irony of the term, considering that after a certain body weight there really wasn’t much of an actual chase to be had. He hadn’t necessarily seemed offended by the idea, but Derek had gotten the impression that Stiles probably wouldn’t appreciate it if he approached him solely on the basis of being attracted to his weight. Which wasn’t the truth at all, Derek had made it a point of watching Stiles whenever he could, and he was also drawn to the man’s humor, his warm and caring personality, even his incapability to ever shut up. But Stiles didn’t know that, couldn’t know that, given that Derek had made an effort to make the man believe he didn’t like him at all and never paid attention to him.

Yet, Stiles was the reason he kept allowing Boyd to drag him to group events, and of course he had been willing to attend Allison’s get-together, a rare chance to be near Stiles in a more quiet setting compared to the outdoor activities and clubs they normally went to. He had had no idea that the evening would go wrong from the very beginning.

 

When he arrives the only seat left is next to Stiles, putting him in closer proximity to the man than he normally would have chosen. He is close enough to sniff the man’s after-shave, hyperaware of every single movement he makes. Then they order pizza and Stiles plows through one large sausage and cheese pizza by himself, licking his fingers after every slice in a way that nearly proves to be Derek’s undoing. He sighs softly after the last slice, leaning back and massaging his full stomach with a satisfied smile and Derek literally has to sit on his hands to stop himself from reaching out and doing the massage for him.

When Erica suggests truth or dare after the dinner, he almost gets up to leave after all, suddenly very much afraid that one of Stiles’ friends might have picked up on his suppressed attraction to Stiles and wants to do something about it; something like making them kiss, which Derek doesn’t think he would be able to stop once he has started. He is especially nervous when it is Erica who spins the bottle on him the first time. Erica is perceptive when it comes to these things, and Derek is pretty sure she has at least an inkling of his attraction, considering the looks she has started to give him every now and then when he is trying to subtly watch Stiles. Despite the fact that it would have made him seem like a judgmental asshole, Derek almost hopes that she has taken his staring for disapproval, the thought not all too unrealistic considering his strict sport regimen and Stiles’ clear lack of one. However, he isn’t so sure that has been the case, leading to his ill-fated decision to answer truth, fully intending to lie if the question includes Stiles in any way.

The penis-question catches him off-guard a little, he figured she might start with something a little more ambiguous to ease him into the game, and for a moment he is at a loss for words, considering he has never actually given that particular question much thought. His gaze drifts to Stiles, wondering if the man is a shower, or a grower, like everything else of him seems to be. He cringes internally at that particular line of reasoning – really, he needs to get a grip – and his response of “grower” comes out as more of a grumble than he has intended. Next to him Stiles’ lips twitch into a pleased smile that he obviously thinks he has hidden well and Derek suppresses the urge to groan when he realizes that his guess has been right.

A couple of turns later Allison is dared to make out with Isaac – by her boyfriend Scott, of all people – and then the bottle spins on Stiles for the first time of the evening.

“I dare you to take off your shirt and paint a Mickey Mouse on your body with whipped cream,” Allison decides, leading to Stiles giving her an incredulous look.

“Mickey Mouse? How old are you, five?”

Derek doesn’t think Allison’s acting like a five-year old. He believes she is acting like his own personal hell personified. If the grounds were to open him up and suck him down to the fiery pits of hell right now, Derek is sure his torture would be to have to sit next to Stiles spraying cream on his stomach and not. being. allowed. to. touch.

One of his most favorite fantasies is coming to life right next to him and Stiles decides to increase the degree of torture by making a show out of taking off his shirt. He is wiggling his ass and hips in a way that makes his flesh shake and bounce, from the soft rolls around his waist to the prominent bulge of his round, still-stuffed gut, which moves slightly less of course, and the fleshy pecs. He’s clearly not self-conscious about it, but then he doesn’t know that for Derek, his movements are about as obscene as if he was a woman who was bouncing her naked breasts right in front of his nose.

Derek knows that he probably looks like he wants to murder somebody, he can feel his brows draw together and his face twist into a grimace. He shifts uncomfortably, willing his semi-hard erection to go down again, because he is not about to make a fool out of himself in front of Stiles and all of his friends. Allison returns and Stiles’ playful grin looks downright sinful to Derek when he begins to spray an elaborate Mickey Mouse all over the wide expanse of his flesh, filling his deep belly button with cream completely so that it looks like Mickey is sticking out his tongue. If someone had told Derek just five minutes ago that he would ever be so hopelessly turned on by anything that involves Mickey Mouse, he would have laughed. Now all he can think about is sticking out his own tongue and thrusting it into the glob of cream in the center of Stiles’ stomach and he doesn’t feel like laughing at all.

Stiles sits back down next to him, his hands holding up his stomach, presumably to prevent the cream from making a mess of his sweatpants and the combination of a half-naked Stiles handling his cream-coated flesh prompts Derek to make a noise that sounds like someone strangled a cat. This is the first time he has ever seen Stiles without a shirt on and he wants to count the moles on his upper body, wants to lick the cream off the soft flesh and run his hands all over the warm, rosy skin. He wants a lot of things he has forbidden himself to want for over a year at this point and his hopes of ever getting this under control are quickly evaporating.

Derek shakes his head, the grimace on his face changing to bitterness when he realizes that after tonight he will probably have to stop hanging out with them. His behavior towards Stiles has clearly ruined any chance he might have ever had with the younger man, an assumption that to Derek is clearly proven by the annoyed look Stiles is shooting in his direction right now. Stiles probably believes he is disgusted by him and Derek knows his limitations when it comes to expressing his emotions, knows, that there is no way he will be able to convince him that he actually isn’t. There is just no way he can tell him that he has been spending his Sundays alone in his apartment for months now, wishing that Stiles was there with him, cuddling up to him on the couch.

Yeah, the “I know you think I think that you’re a disgusting slob but I’m actually so much in love with you I can hardly breath and can you please love me back”-speech is definitely not going to happen.

Two rounds later the bottle lands on him for the second time and he winces when he realizes that it’s Erica’s turn to ask him a question again. He absolutely does not want to answer a question like “What do you think about Stiles being naked next to you” or “What do you want to do to Stiles while he is sitting naked next to you” because he’s afraid he’ll actually answer truthfully, his mind stuck on a repeated loop of “Stiles-Cream-Naked-Stiles” and so he says “dare” automatically.

Erica grins like Christmas came early. She glances back and forth between Derek and Stiles and Derek tenses, suddenly very much afraid – and at the same time horribly sure – that he has just made a terrible mistake.

“Well,” she decides, her grin changing into a look that reminds Derek of a monster that’s about to devour an innocent human, “considering that you have been glaring all evening” (he thought he was being subtle) “and sat next to poor Stiles without ever so much as looking at him” (only he has, and apparently not nearly subtly enough) “I think we can all agree that you two need to become a little more acquainted with each other and that you really need to loosen up.” (Derek doesn’t agree. Derek, in fact, thinks that that’s the worst thing that could happen to both Stiles and him tonight). “I dare you to do a body shot off of Stiles and before that you need to clean him up – with your tongue.”

Derek freezes. This is not happening. For one he has masturbated to the thought of licking all over Stiles’ body so many times at this point that he will probably be like Pavlov’s dog and become rock-hard instantly, putting both of them in a really awkward position and giving away his secret. Secondly, he really does not trust himself to be able to stop once he has started and wouldn’t that be an awesome end to the evening, being arrested for molestation. His grimace deepens – of course he will stop, his time with Kate having taught him that consent is everything, but it will be physical and emotional torture to do so.

He turns to look at Stiles and feels his heart breaking when he sees how angry Stiles looks. He is clearly repulsed by the idea of having Derek all over him and Derek’s face scrunches up against his will, the bitter grimace probably turning into a rather pathetic expression, considering how distraught he feels.

Stiles turns to look at him and Derek’s desperate expression seems to startle him, his angry look softening to something that looks dangerously close to pity. “Well Boyd, I think I’m going to be responsible for y’all’s next round of spotting training” he says in an obvious attempt at lightening the mood and Derek bites the inside of his cheek to keep himself from saying something monumentally stupid.

To his surprise Stiles doesn’t protest the dare and instead stretches out his legs, leaning back and propping himself up on his elbows. The position makes his full stomach stick out even more, demanding attention, and Derek can’t stop looking at him, imagining what this would be like if they were alone and Stiles was spread out like this for him because he actually wanted to.

The thought that he will never have that makes him feel like dying – well, not really, obviously, but he can’t help feeling a bit dramatic right now – and Stiles give him an almost pained grimace to remind him how much he dislikes the situation, breaking his heart even more.

“Today, Hale,” Erica announces and Derek shoots her a glare, hating her with every fiber of his being in that very moment. He will probably lose Boyd as a spotting partner, but at this point Derek is very much willing to justify his decision to no longer hang out with the group by telling the man that he can no longer stand the she-demon he is dating.

He turns back to Stiles, and suddenly it feels like someone inside him has flipped a switch. He still feels horrible about putting the man in this position, but then again Stiles is clearly willing to go along with it, albeit grudgingly, and if he only has the chance to live out his fantasies once, then he damn well will take it.

“Sorry,” he mouths at Stiles, feeling the need to verbalize his regret about the hopelessness of their situation one more time. He doesn’t pay attention to the confused frown on the man’s face, swinging his legs over Stiles’ lap and sitting down on his thighs, his own muscular thighs almost straddling the man’s groin. His fingers are shaking when he reaches out to finally, _finally_ touch Stiles, and he grasps at the younger man’s love handles, fingers sinking into the warm flesh. He takes a moment to compose himself and then he bends down to Stiles’ lower belly. When his tongue touches Stiles’ skin a shudder runs through his body and he can feel his toes curling up inside the shoes he never bothered to take off. He knows he should rush this, should get this over with as quickly as possible, but for the life of him he just can’t, not with Stiles spread out under him like this, his cream-coated flesh beckoning to be caressed, stroked, and worshipped. Derek puts all of his longing and desire into his movements, his thumbs gently stroking Stiles’ sides as if they were actually lovers.

The cream is sweet, almost too sweet given his normal diet, but he wills himself to ignore the sugary taste, knowing that he has to lap up every single inch because it means that he gets to keep touching Stiles. When he reaches the top of Stiles’ gut he can’t help himself and rubs his bearded chin against the taut skin. He hesitantly presses into the firm bulge, dying to test the give and he makes an utterly embarrassing noise when he’s met with considerably more resistance than at the man’s lower belly.

He tilts up his head to look at Stiles and when he does he notices two things that make his entire body thrum with desire. First, Stiles’ maneuvering has caused his nipples to be covered in cream as well and second, the look on Stiles’ face is not discomfort at all. Instead, the man looks blissed out of his mind and now that Derek is paying attention, he can definitely feel the beginning of Stiles’ erection straining against his inner thighs. Stiles gasps when their eyes meet and he can only imagine what he looks like right now. Stiles is one of these people who say everything with their eyes and Derek can almost tell the exact moment when Stiles realizes how Derek feels and they are finally, finally on the same page.

It gives him the confidence he needs to bend down and suck Stiles’ cream-covered nipple into his mouth, moving the situation from playful/bordering on the edge dare to full-on sexual territory. He runs his tongue along the nub, his fingers gripping Stiles’ soft waist so hard that he’s almost afraid he is going to leave a bruise and he leans down further, allowing Stiles to feel his erection, to prove to him that he is not misunderstanding the situation at all, that Derek is enjoying this just as much as he obviously is.

Stiles twists below him when Derek moves to the other nipple and bites down gently, worrying the creamy flesh between his teeth. He can feel Stiles shaking as he moves down the other side of his body, finishing up the outline of the cartoon face. He only has the eyes, nose, and mouth left and he knows his body is probably close to a sugar overload at this point, really not used to so much sweetness all at once. Then he thinks about why he has had to lick off what seems to him like almost an entire can of cream, appreciating the thought that it took so much of the sugary substance to cover Stiles’ entire belly and he attacks the rest of the cream with renewed vigor, not able to stop the little noises of pleasure that escape from his mouth as he trails his lips over the soft skin below him, barely stopping himself from pressing kisses into the yielding flesh. He tightens his legs and rocks his hips reflexively, biting back a groan when he feels Stiles’ erection go from semi-hard to rock hard below him (a grower, definitely a grower).

He has saved Stiles’ belly button for last and when he thrusts his tongue into the creamy center, Stiles arches his back under him, pushing his stomach into Derek’s face. The sensation is overwhelming, filling all of his senses. Derek pushes his nose into the flesh, enjoys the way it sinks into the warm body under him and he inhales deeply, relishing the smell of Stiles, without any distracting after-shave. There is definitely something to be said about chemical attraction, because Derek is sure he has never smelled something so delicious and he allows himself to gently bite into the edge of the man’s deep belly button. It takes all of his willpower to move his face away from Stiles’ stomach and when he finally pushes himself up, using the man’s lower belly as leverage, he is breathing like a man on the run.

Derek is so gone he is not even able to physically remove his hands from Stiles, cradling his lower gut and exploring the soft rolls he finds there instead. He trails his fingers along the soft hairs on Stiles’ stomach, his dick twitching almost painfully at the thought of where Stiles’ happy trail leads. Although he has yet to see it he can clearly feel the hard erection of the man against his groin and he really doesn’t want to move, now or possibly ever.

He almost startles when Erica pushes a bottle of Tequila into his hands, having completely forgotten about the original point of the dare. Stiles lowers himself flat on his back and Derek’s fingers are once again shaking when he opens the bottle, almost spilling half of it over Stiles when he fills up that delicious belly button. Stiles looks positively debauched, his eyes never leaving Derek’s as he blindly accepts a lemon from Erica and takes it into his mouth. Derek grabs the saltshaker and his decision to sprinkle the salt onto Stiles’ neck is mostly motivated by the fact that he yet to caress the sensitive skin there. Stiles has been so receptive to his touch that Derek can’t wait to hear the sounds he can coax out of him by trailing his tongue over his neck.

He drapes his body over Stiles’ for better access, mindful of the Tequila on his stomach and in an effort not to jostle his lower belly and end up spilling the liquid after all he presses his hands to the crest of Stiles’ gut, digging his fingers into the taut skin. He briefly worries that this might be uncomfortable for Stiles when the man emits a pained groan, but then Derek begins to suck at his neck and the groan turns into a moan that’s so filthy Derek almost comes right then and there.

Derek’s erection is so hard it’s painful and he knows he won’t be able to hold out for much longer. He swiftly moves down to suck the Tequila out of Stiles’ belly button and then moves back up, his mind made up when he basically rips the lemon out of Stiles’ mouth, not even bothering to stop and taste it. He can’t wait any longer, his desire to kiss Stiles overpowering everything and so he does, his hands once again grabbing onto the man’s waist. He is dimly aware that he is putting his entire weight on top of Stiles’ body, but he doesn’t care because it means that they are finally pressed together tightly, the way Derek envisioned it when he first saw him.

He wants to cry in relief when Stiles responds to the kiss immediately, his passion and desire evident in the way he opens up to Derek and suddenly there is the rushing sound of multiple feet leaving the room and Derek swears he can hear Erica mutter “Finally!” before the door closes behind them and they are alone.

Stiles’ arms come up behind Derek’s shoulder, pushing him closer towards him and thrusting up his hips at the same time. He is strong, just as Derek thought he would be and he moans into the man’s mouth, spikes shooting up and down his spine when he feels Stiles stiffen under him, the soft cry he utters upon his release muffled by Derek’s mouth.

Derek lifts his hips and leans over Stiles’ body so that his groin is pushing against the soft belly under him, his control snapping as he helplessly grinds his erection into the yielding flesh, thrusting once, twice, before the added friction sends him over the edge as well.

When he has caught his breath he rolls off of Stiles. He feels like whining at the loss of contact but he is suddenly very much aware of how hard Stiles’ upper stomach still feels below him and he can’t imagine that his full weight, solid muscle mass and all, feels too pleasant for the man right now.

Neither of them says anything for a couple of minutes and finally Stiles turns his head to look at Derek, the skin around his bright eyes crinkling as he smiles softly.

“So … that happened,” he says carefully and Derek utters a shaky laugh, his hand coming up to rub his face.

“Yeah. That happened,” he agrees. It feels a bit anticlimactic, especially considering how he feels like shouting his joy into the open sky, but he is still too overwhelmed to be more coherent.

“Is that a good thing?” Stiles asks, and Derek hates how unsure he sounds.

“It’s a good thing,” he says, hoping he has put enough conviction into his voice so Stiles will believe him. Derek can’t even begin to explain how important it is that Stiles believes him and his heart swells when Stiles exhales deeply and responds “Good.”

The silence is more comfortable now and to his delight Stiles smiles brightly when Derek rolls on his side to snuggle into the man, suddenly touch-starved once again. Now that he knows he can actually touch Stiles he isn’t sure he’ll ever stop and he drapes his arm over the round stomach for good measure, his fingers drawing wide, gentle circles around Stiles’ belly button.

Gathering all of his courage he decides to finally say what he has been wanting to for months, and although he’s pretty sure he knows what the answer is going to be he’s not quite able to keep the hesitation out of his voice.

“So … I know I haven’t really given you much reason to want to get to know me this past year, but I have been wondering for a while now … and this seems like a good moment to finally ask … can I take you out to dinner some time?”

Stiles takes a while to answer and Derek has to will himself to stay completely still, holding his breath while he waits for a response.

His heart plummets when Stiles says “No” and he tenses, his reflexes going into flight mode immediately, but Stiles’ strong arm comes out of nowhere and he feels himself pushed into Stiles’ side. In this position he can feel the rapid thrumming of Stiles’ heartbeat and he exhales in relief when Stiles says “I think I’d much rather invite you to my place, order take-out, and let you feed me. I have a very big couch.”

Although he is nowhere near able for a second round Derek feels his dick twitch at the thought of feeding Stiles. It’s an idea he hasn’t really entertained much yet, but he is certain he’ll get quite a lot of enjoyment out of it, considering it involves Stiles and right now, still riding the high from his orgasm and reveling in the warmth of Stiles’ body against his, everything that involves the man is perfection as far as Derek is concerned. 

He lifts his head to look at the younger man, turned on, hopeful, and blissfully happy all at the same time. He feels like bursting with happiness when he finds the look mirrored on Stiles’ face. Encouraged, his hand moves up to the top part of Stiles’ stomach and he pats the firm bulge softly, a genuine smile brightening his features.

“If we do that, I will want you to eat more than that measly large pizza you ate tonight,” he teases, thinking that instead of take-out he would much rather cook for Stiles himself, and wondering whether he can get the man to come to his apartment instead. His couch, after all, is quite big as well.

Stiles grins playfully, his hand reaching up so it is on top of Derek’s and when he intertwines their fingers Derek’s eyes flutter close.

He allows himself to enjoy the intimacy of the moment and when Stiles says “I’m counting on it,” he squeezes the man’s fingers.

Derek definitely won’t let him down

**Author's Note:**

> Well, I’ve gotten a request to write a sequel … how long it’ll take me to write that will probably depend on how long it will take Derek and Stiles to make up their mind about whose couch is bigger ... read: I don’t know yet, but after the positive response to “Body Shots and Whipped Cream” I’m definitely motivated.


End file.
